


good things come to those who watch

by laraleroliro



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu has a huge ass, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Dry Humping, Kiyoomi is a walking contradiction, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28318116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laraleroliro/pseuds/laraleroliro
Summary: It's downright stupid, how much Atsumu cares about how his ass looks in something that he's gonna be wearing under his usual clothes.It's even more stupid how the clothes that should have no bussiness promoting his ass in the first place make it lookgloriousanyway.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 22
Kudos: 444





	good things come to those who watch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akanemnida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akanemnida/gifts), [asakuatsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asakuatsu/gifts).



Miya Atsumu had always been vain, Kiyoomi has known about this since the first time his eyes landed on a mustard colored mop of impressively hydrated hair (despite the obvious several rounds of bleach) in high school.

While the choice of tone wasn't particularly easy on the eye, Kiyoomi could appreciate all the same how it matched the bold and imponent personality of its bearer. It might not have been exactly pretty, yeah, but it was somewhat… stylish, so to speak. A thought out fashion statement of sorts.

Throughout the years, Atsumu's sense of style has improved by all standards, Kiyoomi must admit: his hair has a much lighter tone now; he learned that, as much as he thinks his volleyball sneakers are neat, they're not always appropriate for social events; there are some overcoats in his wardrobe now among all of the oversized hoodies he seemed to find peak fashion two and a half years ago.

As Atsumu's boyfriend of one year and a half, Kiyoomi has been there to go through a lot of these improvements along with Atsumu - even guide some, if he may say.

So that's why right now he's patiently sitting in a sports department store changing room and watching Atsumu go through his 16-step long ~~overthinking~~ thought process - _does this fit when I stand? What if I sit down? What if I slouch? What if I have a XL hamburger and a beer while wearing it?_ \- before deciding which one of the 9 absolutely identical pairs of compression shorts he will be taking home.

It's not a problem to Kiyoomi actually. He needed a new pair of shorts himself and another tank top would also be nice, so joining Atsumu was the natural decision, of course.

At the store, they each picked up the desired pieces and headed to the changing rooms where they parted ways to settle in two different booths right across each other. Kiyoomi tried on the two pieces he already knew would fit since he made sure to check his size before leaving his place, slid into his own clothes again and now he sits here and… Waits.

Arguably, he enjoys the view from across the hall.

Slouching onto the wall to his right, Kiyoomi can peep through the curtains and see Atsumu crouched down in front of the mirror to check if the garment still holds whenever he bends exactly like how he would on the court to pull off those absurd overhand sets he insists on calling his trademark.

Well… Allegedly.

Kiyoomi knows that in the end Atsumu's just checking out his own ass and making sure the shorts he decides on are the ones that highlight his hard earned curves best, no matter the angle, the position or the moment one might be looking at them.

It's downright stupid, how much Atsumu cares about how his ass looks in something that he's gonna be wearing under his usual clothes.

It's even more stupid how the clothes that should have no bussiness promoting his ass in the first place make it look _glorious_ anyway.

Round and full and strong, perked up despite gravity, with the muscles moving smoothly under the shiny black fabric of the compression shorts with every move Atsumu makes: from side to side when he shifts his weight from one foot to another like a model; up and around when he tenses up and spins on the balls his feet like a wannabe ballerina; out and back in when he squats down and up again, first with his knees pointing forward and then outward, like he does on leg day.

It's kind of mesmerizing and intriguing at the same time, to Kiyoomi. He doesn't really know if the muscles of his behind can be as expressive as Atsumu's; in fact he pretty much doubts it, considering he is a little bit on the flat side in comparison to his boyfriend. Anyhow, it's always impressive to see Atsumu's muscles dance under his skin like this. Even more impressive when he can feel it with his hands when Atsumu is on top of him and-

" _Hold up, Kiyoomi. Stop right there_ ," he advises himself as soon as he remembers he's in public and getting horny is not exactly ideal.

He presses his palm calmy to his cock over his clothes, in an attempt to soothe it down with a reassuring touch before it turns incriminatingly hard. He slouches back onto the wall, takes a deep breath, stares at the white expanse in front of him - _it's just his ass; you literally see it everyday, there's no need to get worked up_ -, and, convinced, he turns to resume watching Atsumu from behind the curtains.

With an unmoving hand on his half hard dick, there he stays as Atsumu leans his torso forward, then starts raising his heels off the ground one after the other as he bends his knees up. It's rhythmical and flowy and it’s actually making Kiyoomi break a sweat. Everytime a knee goes up, the opposing hip jerks out and small arcs of light flash up the smooth outline of Atsumu's asscheeks, emphasizing the perfectly spherical surface with a faint glow that looks _tasty_.

Kiyoomi mouth waters on its own accord and he realizes that he might have been gawking a bit.

And that the heel of his hand might have been applying a bit more pressure on his dick than he intended at first.

“Shit.” He looks down to find himself harder than before.

The curse is loud enough to attract Atsumu’s attention from inside the other booth, so - much to Kiyoomi’s chagrin - he meets Atsumu’s eyes in the mirror once he raises his head again.

“What yer doin’, Omi-kun?” The accusation in Atsumu's tone might not have been obvious hadn’t he caught Kiyoomi leaning onto the wall of a public changing room to peek at him through the curtains with a hand on his dick. His smirk and wiggly brows are annoying. “Were ya checkin’ me out?” 

At Kiyoomi’s silence - thank god the place gives him an excuse to stay quiet - Atsumu pulls his curtain fully open and gets into Kiyoomi’s room in two strides. Kiyoomi levels him up, eyes lingering on his exposed thighs against his will before looking up at his face. “No”.

Doubtful, Atsumu fixes the spot in his pants that Kiyoomi supposes might look a bit tighter than it was supposed to and huffs out a condescending laughter. Kiyoomi keeps his straight face, determined to remain aloof in spite of him. Until the bastard spins around to throw his ass on his face, that is.

“I’m not sure about these, Omi-omi,” he tosses his hip to the side and pours all of his weight on his left leg, a hand sliding up from his thigh to his asscheck very slowly.

 _Fuck_ , Kiyoomi gulps.

It looks even more tempting this up close. The fabric makes a garbled sound when Atsumu gives himself a small slap. “Whatcha think?”

What does Kiyoomi think. Of course it looks absolutely showstopping, breathtaking, borderline illegal. So he says exactly the opposite. “It looks okay, I guess. It’s gonna go under your clothes anyway.”

Atsumu hums, considering. “But they need to fit well, dontcha agree? They need to stay put when I do this,” and he squats down, down, down to the floor with his back straight and ass popping out, then slowly gets back on his feet with the sheer strength of his thighs.

It shouldn’t be this amazing, but it is, and Kiyoomi is speechless.

“Or this,” Atsumu turns again and throws a leg over Kiyoomi to plant his foot on the bench where he sits. The heel he keeps on the ground stays perfectly in place as he pushes his hips forward, closer to Kiyoomi’s - whose breath got completely lost a couple of seconds ago - face.

“D’ya think it fits me well?” Atsumu asks feigning innocence, and it takes Kiyoomi a good three seconds to register that he's expected to reply. It’s not his fault, really. How the fuck is he supposed to not be awestruck by the massive pair of thighs in front of him right now? He inhales deeply, his dick throbs in his briefs. “Hm. Yeah, I suppose it does.” he clears his throat. “It looks good.”

Atsumu’s brow cocks up when he smirks. “Ya _really_ think so, huh, Omi-kun?”

Indeed he does. But whatever Atsumu means by stating the obvious, he doesn’t really understand. “What.”

“Nothing... It’s just that I can actually _see_ that, yanno,” he grins and shamelessly stares down at the growing bulge in Kiyoomi’s pants. “and I’m flattered.”

Since he started dating Atsumu, not one day had gone by in Kiyoomi’s life where he didn’t question his sanity and, mainly, his morals. He contemplates his strict upbringing and silently asks his parents for forgiveness as he watches Atsumu lower himself to sit on his lap right there in the changing room, and doesn’t raise a finger to stop him from doing it.

Atsumu looks him in the eye and grinds forward once, ass pressing Kiyoomi’s jeans against his boner mercilessly. Kiyoomi’s head falls back as a shiver shoots up his spine and spills out of his lips in the form of a strangled moan.

The entire situation is ridiculous, fuck, but he just has got to admit that he’s not strong enough to fight back when Atsumu wraps his arms around his neck and rolls his hips so slowly but with enough purpose to send Kiyoomi spinning into the next week.

"Omi-kun, shhh," Atsumu whispers into Kiyoomi's ear after one particularly loud moan strays from his mouth. "Yer gonna get us caught this way," he enlightens Kiyoomi, but doesn't really seem interested in stopping the humping that happens to be eliciting such reactions from him. If anything, his moves get faster and harder, a little bit more desperate as soon as he finds a position that provides him some stimulation too.

Trying to gain some control over the situation, Kiyoomi grabs Atsumu's ass with both hands. His cock twitches when he finally gives it a good squeeze, feeling the rough fabric tightly adjust to the shape of Atsumu's soft flesh as he fondles it. He grips it strongly enough to be able to guide Atsumu's hip on his cock, slowly, back and forth, back and forth, until Atsumu is moaning low on his ear.

There's no use in denying that he is incriminatingly, painfully hard now, and there's simply no way he will be leaving the store like that. Nevermind Atsumu, with the massive bulge he's showing right now.

Kiyoomi fastens his arms around Atsumu's waist and with one pull he manages to lift him enough to slide his own back down against the wall and have Atsumu land on top of him again without losing balance. He steadies his feet on the ground and thrusts up onto Atsumu's clothed ass, a hand firm on his hip and another one groping Atsumu's cock with circular movements.

Atsumu whimpers loudly at the touch. Kiyoomi, in petty revenge, shushes him and tells him he's going to get them caught if he doesn't stop.

Atsumu immediately shuts up, but not without bringing his hips down to grind down on Kiyoomi with all of the core strength he has, making Kiyoomi keen.

Once their little ego battle is over, they fall into a pace that's neither fast or slow, but still quick enough to make them both pant for air in small, silent gasps.

The clothed friction on Kiyoomi's cock is maddening, both delicious and not enough at the same time on its own, but combined with the image of Atsumu sitting on his lap, rutting onto him for release, it's perfect. Just the limited sight that he can catch from the mirror of Atsumu's ass muscles working to push himself back and forth on top of him is all he needs to get off at this point, probably.

Kiyoomi's palm keeps on stroking Atsumu's cock over his clothes, cupping it tightly as it moves all over the hard length, from the shaft to the head and back, relentlessly. There's already a small wet spot on the shorts where the head of his cock is slotted, and from the way he squeezes his eyes Kiyoomi knows that he's close.

Shit, so much for not getting caught. "Atsumu, the shorts… We still have to pay for them."

Panic flashes over Atsumu's gaze when he opens his eyes. It lasts less than a second though, before it turns into a naughty grin. "'S okay, Omi. I'll just put on my pants on top of it, snap off the price tag and tell 'em I'm going home with it." He asserts the brilliance of his plan with a hard thrust forward and a wink. Damn, the little shit's actually turned on by all this.

And so is Kiyoomi, for fucks sake.

But Kiyoomi doesn't have a change of clothes and as appealing as cumming is his pants for Atsumu might sound right now, he refuses to go home by train with wet pants.

"Atsumu, stop..." He doesn't. He keeps riding Kiyoomi's clothed cock like it was actually inside him, biting his lower lip to hold in his moans and delay his climax. "Fuck, Atsumu, I'm close. Please… please stop. I _can't_ cum in my pants."

It's immediate.

Atsumu's hips stop and lift, relieving Kiyoomi from that sweet pressure he had been applying so tirelessly until now. Kiyoomi's in the middle of mentally praising his boyfriend for being so considerate when he feels a pair of hands rush to undo his belt and fly. "What the…"

"Cum in mine, then" is the solution Atsumu proudly presents him with once he opens his eyes.

Dumbfounded, Kiyoomi simply stares as Atsumu lowers his briefs and takes his cock at hand. The direct contact with Atsumu's warm skin makes Kiyoomi shudder on sight, over sensitive from rubbing into rough fabric before.

One tug from Atsumu and he's _crying_ , drowning too deep in pleasure to worry about questioning Atsumu's decision.

Atsumu cups Kiyoomi's cock to hold it against his and grinds forward to meet it dead on, over and over as he rolls his hips on Kiyoomi's lap. It makes Kiyoomi's mind flash white everytime Atsumu's cock humps on the underside of his through the shorts and, before he knows, he's pulling Atsumu by the waist into a crushing embrace and cumming on his hand and brand new compression shorts with a gasped holler that leaves his throat in pitiful hyperaware stutters.

Kiyoomi blinks heavily a couple of times to fight the dizziness of the afterglow. He sees Atsumu reach out for his own cock as soon as the world comes into focus again, though it takes his mind a little while to fully register what exactly he's doing.

Once it does, Kiyoomi's legs threaten to collapse and drop them both on the floor.

Moaning, Atsumu smears all of Kiyoomi's cum he had in his hand over his cock and jerks himself off through his wet clothes, fast, a little erratic and desperate. Jaw fallen slack, breathing short and hiccupy; his body jolts slightly with every stroke, the iminent climax taking over his body slowly, bit by bit.

Kiyoomi is left in awe when Atsumu's legs go limp and his hips drop suddenly, all strength gone as he's taken under by a wave of neverending bliss and ecstasy. Kiyoomi catches him and eases him on his chest so he doesn’t crumble with the aftershocks, mindful to keep his own hips strained so they won’t touch Atsumu’s messy and sticky ones and stain his own clothes.

Once Atsumu is done getting his bearings, he rises again on top of Kiyoomi and grins, ever so proud and accomplished after putting Kiyoomi through this nonsense, then kisses him. It’s slow and careful as opposed to the way he handled the whole thing thus far, but the ambivalence is not as puzzling to Kiyoomi as it used to be anymore, honestly. He leans in and hums into Atsumu’s kiss, gives his ass another squeeze before pulling away. “Get off of me, you.”

Atsumu grimaces but does as he’s told. Kiyoomi quickly pulls his pants up to cover any evidence of his own shame, while Atsumu simply pulls the curtain open and almost walks out proudly with his on display.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“There’s no one here, Omi-kun. Chill,” he winks and runs back to his booth to change into his clothes.

Kiyoomi’s head drops into his hands. He wishes he could muster an exasperated sigh and pretend to be outraged, at least try to fool himself into believing he’s still the sane counterpart in this relationship. “We’re burning this pair as soon as we get home.”

“I thought ya liked these though, Omi…” Atsumu pouts and whines.

He did. Too much. That’s exactly why.

“I didn’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a humble and rushed christmas gift to [Asa Kuatsu](https://twitter.com/aSAKUATSU) and [Akane](https://twitter.com/bottomikun), who honestly spend too much time enabling me. I love you both and I can't think of a better way to gift it you than with porn.
> 
> As for the other readers, thanks so much for making it through the end. I hope you enjoyed it as much as Atsumu and Kiyoomi did! Comments and kudos are appreciated <3 Come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kinkyoomi) if you'd like to enable me as well.
> 
> Happy Holidays!!!!!!!


End file.
